Let's Stay Friends
by thereisafire
Summary: Kakyoin becomes friends with Polnareff, and falls in love somewhere along the way.


Inspired by a lot of Kakyoin/Polnareff posts on Tumblr. If you've ever posted about them, thank you!

* * *

 **1\. egg**

Kakyoin leans against the train window, and tries his best to fall asleep. He isn't sleepy, but there isn't anything else to do, particularly since Jotaro's the only other person in his compartment. After their last abortive attempt at small talk, Jotaro's either sound asleep or doing a very good job of staying still and pretending to snore.

As Kakyoin stares off into the distance, he finds himself hoping that Mr Joestar or Avdol or someone will come in, or that an easily-defeatable Stand user will attack. Something, anything to break the monotony of watching an endless stream of trees pass into the distance.

The door to the compartment screeches as someone pushes it open, and Kakyoin braces himself for something to happen.

"Hey, Kakyoin! Mind if I come in?" Without waiting for an actual response, Polnareff cheerfully tosses his bag into the compartment, and bounds in right after it, flopping down next to Kakyoin. He rummages in one of his hip pouches, and presses something into Kakyoin's hand.

It's an egg. An egg which has probably been in Polnareff's pocket for at least a day, since none of their meals today have involved eggs in any form.

Polnareff pulls out another egg from his hip pouch, and cracks it against the metal edge of the train's seat, peeling off the shell to reveal its hard-boiled interior. He bites into it with gusto.

Kakyoin stares at the egg, then at Polnareff, too dumbfounded to think of a sarcastic retort. Even simple questions like why or what or how seem inadequate for the situation at hand.

"Aren't you eating it?" Polnareff says. "It's all right, don't be shy! I have more where that came from!"

"Where...where did they come from?"

"They were serving them on the cart yesterday. Then I thought, hey, since I have pockets, why not save some for later?" Polnareff looks exceptionally proud of himself for his ingenious egg-storage idea. "They've got protein too!"

Kakyoin decides to drop the subject of eggs, as the logic behind every step leading to the egg in his hand seems far too alien for him to comprehend.

"What are you doing here?"

"Mr Joestar and Avdol were talking about their arrangements with the Speedwagon Foundation, and they told me to go check on you guys – but everything's fine, huh? Guess I'll leave you to it!"

Mr Joestar and Avdol obviously want privacy for their discussion if they've stooped to asking Polnareff to leave. Logically speaking, Kakyoin should strike up a conversation with Polnareff to keep him from returning, for the benefit of all parties involved.

"Polnareff," Kakyoin attempts. "What...what's your favourite colour?"

Polnareff looks at Kakyoin. This gives Kakyoin enough time to regret every word of his question, which seems to have escaped from a kindergarten's sandbox. The compartment is even more silent than before – Polnareff's probably thinking of the best way to shut Kakyoin down with a sarcastic comeback before leaving.

Polnareff chuckles. "Wow, you ask tough questions. I'm pretty sure it's gold, but silver's second! What's yours?"

"Oh." Kakyoin pauses to think. "Shiny green."

"Like your Hierophant!" Polnareff seems thrilled, as if this minor detail about Kakyoin is an earth-shaking revelation. "I've liked gold since I was really young, but no matter what I tried Chariot wouldn't change colour – guess we can't pick our Stands, huh? What were you doing when yours first appeared?"

"Wait," Kakyoin says, thinking back. Everyone else on the trip has asked one or two questions about his Stand – how it works, its effective range, how old he was when it manifested – but no one else has been this curious about his relationship with Hierophant, and somehow, Polnareff's sheer sincerity makes him want to provide an answer.

"I was playing in the yard alone," Kakyoin says. "Then I had a friend to play with." It's against his every instinct, but Kakyoin forces himself to continue, to extend the conversation instead of shutting it down. "What about you, Polnareff?"

Polnareff either ignores or doesn't notice Kakyoin's internal struggle, and breezes ahead. "I was watching cartoons – it was the episode where Bugs went back in time, and during the commercial break I noticed Chariot right beside me! By the way, have you ever watched Looney Tunes? I'm not sure if it aired in Japan, but..."

After an hour of very scattered conversation, as well as a lot of unbridled enthusiasm on Polnareff's part, Polnareff reluctantly decides that he should go back to his compartment before the meal cart comes along. He bids Kakyoin a fond farewell, as if he's leaving for a foreign land instead of another section of the train, and glances back to make sure he's taken everything.

"Kakyoin, do you want your egg? You haven't eaten it at all."

Kakyoin glances down – oh, that's right. The egg rolls about on the train's seat, and they both look at it. Polnareff wouldn't mind if Kakyoin handed the egg back to him, and he'd probably take any sarcastic comment about its hygiene in stride. In fact, there are many reasons not to eat the egg, based on food-safety guidelines, concerns about Polnareff's lifestyle, and Kakyoin's general apathy towards hard-boiled eggs.

Polnareff looks at him expectantly.

Kakyoin brushes the flecks of lint off the egg, and extends Hierophant's tendrils to crack the egg's shell. Hierophant slithers into the cracked egg, loosening its membrane and shell, and deposits the shelled egg into Kakyoin's hand.

Kakyoin takes a bite, then another. It isn't bad, for a day-old egg. He doesn't need Polnareff's approval of his egg-eating, but even so, when Polnareff beams at him, it feels like something's blossoming in his chest.

Kakyoin hopes it's not food poisoning.

 **2\. tourism**

It's one of the in-between days on the trip, when they can't do anything but wait for the next morning's train. Jotaro's staying in, probably to read those detective novels he keeps stealing from hotels and stealthily hiding under his gakuran, and Mr Joestar is either checking on Holly's condition or Avdol's hospital arrangements. It's up to Kakyoin to entertain Polnareff and keep him from getting into trouble.

They're currently wandering around, searching for the best sharbat place in the city – perhaps a well-prepared glass of gulab sharbat (rose petals, pomegranate and lemon juice, cold water, sweetener, optional cardamom) will stop Polnareff from complaining about the weather.

Kakyoin gives up, and squats down on the roadside to unfold and consult the map. While he's figuring out where they are and which junction they should have turned at, Polnareff ineffectually fans himself with the strap of his top, exposing even more of his chest than usual. Kakyoin forces himself to concentrate on the map instead of Polnareff's...display, and eventually concludes that they should have taken the last turn.

As Kakyoin stands up, he glances at the surrounding streets. Everyone around them seems to be pointing at something shiny in the distance and talking very loudly. The thing is approaching rapidly, accompanied by a constant threatening rumble. It's probably not an enemy Stand, but better safe than sorry. Kakyoin passes the map back to Polnareff, and readies himself for whatever's going to happen.

A brand-new Porsche 959 streaks past both of them, gleaming in the mid-afternoon sunlight, a trail of dust following in its wake. It's the street-legal version with the Komfort trim, since it actually has rear seats and passenger-side mirrors. Kakyoin can't help but feel a twinge of envy.

"Kakyoin," Polnareff says, as they trudge towards their destination on their own legs, rather than in air-conditioned 450 brake-horsepower comfort. "Teach me how to hotwire a car."

"We can't steal a Porsche 959 for a joyride. People would notice."

"I didn't say anything about that." Polnareff waggles his nonexistent eyebrows. "Were you planning something illegal, Kakyoin?"

"Oh, look, we're here," Kakyoin says, ignoring him.

When they're sipping on their gulab sharbats, Polnareff broaches the subject again and again, disregarding Kakyoin's disinterest. He also appears to be too stubborn to forget about it, despite Kakyoin's best attempts to change the topic to the history of sharbats in South Asia.

After ten solid minutes of threats, wheedling, and flattery, Kakyoin sighs in defeat. "Fine. Remove the ignition cover, and gain access to the wiring. You'll need to remove the plastic panels covering the steering column too. There are usually three pairs of wires connected to the cylinder – one of these pairs will start the car. Then you check the wires and deduce which one starts the car using your Hierophant Green, disconnect them from the cylinder, and then you unravel your Hierophant again –"

"Hey. Hey. Give me the real method. The one that other people can actually do."

"It's not my fault if you don't have all the required tools," Kakyoin says, resisting the urge to smirk. "You could try learning from TV instead."

"That's it," Polnareff says, giving Kakyoin the middle finger. "I'm going back and asking Jotaro, asshole."

He does not move.

After waiting for a while, Kakyoin concludes that Polnareff won't be leaving any time soon. He watches Polnareff stir the dregs of his drink with his straw, and calls the waiter for another round of sharbats. Lemon this time, for a change.

Polnareff reaches for his wallet.

"It's my treat," Kakyoin says. "Dinner too."

 **3\. tricks**

The hotel's provided them with a fruit basket. More aptly, the hotel's provided them with an apple basket, with some other sad-looking fruits as an afterthought.

Kakyoin contemplates his dinner's deficiency in dietary fiber, the possible age of the fruit basket, and the difficulty of finding a fruit vendor near their current hotel. He sighs, and washes two apples off in the sink, trying to ignore the dust specks accumulating in the water.

The door's lock clicks, and clicks again. The knob rattles. There's a sound of muffled cursing outside the door.

Kakyoin contemplates cutting his apple into rabbit slices for a bit of variety, but decides that cutting it normally will be sufficient. He rummages for his knife, ignoring the noises outside, which sound like someone is simultaneously kicking the door very hard and shouting for 'Noriaki Kakyoin'. The noise stops after a while, and the rattling resumes, followed by a final hard click.

"Hey, screw you," Polnareff says as he enters the room. He looks rather irritated, almost as if he'd spent the past ten minutes outside his hotel room as his roommate ignored him while slowly eating an apple.

Kakyoin finishes his last apple slice. "They told us to push the key in when opening the door. I'm glad you managed to remember."

"You could have helped!"

"I didn't feel like it. Have some fruit." Kakyoin lobs an apple at Polnareff's head. It's the only other clean apple – a concession to Polnareff's trouble.

Polnareff snatches the apple out of the air, and breaks it into four neat slices with his bare hands.

Despite himself, Kakyoin's impressed. It's not as cool as Jotaro's five-cigarettes-and-juice trick, or Mr Joestar's I-can-read-your-mind trick, but it seems like a useful skill to learn.

"How did you do that?"

"What? Open the door? I don't know, I figured it out despite my asshole roommate –"

"No, the apple trick." Kakyoin contemplates the possible side effects of his next request, then decides to go ahead anyway. In his politest, good-student voice, he says, "I was quite impressed by it. Could you show me how you did it?"

Polnareff stares at him in disbelief. "Uh...sure." He seems to forget his earlier irritation once he's explaining the history behind the trick, its dependence on proper thumb placement and grip strength, and the need for immense amounts of practice. He demonstrates it at least five times for Kakyoin, patiently describing the steps over and over again, interspersed with anecdotes about how Sherry had grown to hate apple pies and apple galettes and apples in general when Polnareff was learning the trick.

As charming as Polnareff's enthusiasm is, enough is enough. When Polnareff reaches for his sixth apple, Kakyoin snatches it from him just to avoid hearing the tutorial again.

"I'm warning you, Kakyoin! The apple exploded on me the first time I tried it! It took me a week to get it right!"

"I'm sure I'll take less time than that," Kakyoin says, as he sets his fingers in the correct spots, and grips. The apple splits into perfect halves, and he instinctively grips again, splitting the halves into perfect quarters.

The four pieces fall to the ground. Kakyoin blinks at them, dumbfounded.

Polnareff whoops loudly, and stretches his fist out in Kakyoin's direction.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Oh." Polnareff looks sheepish. "When your friend does something cool, sometimes you bump fists. It's a...thing. Maybe we could...try it?"

Kakyoin opens his mouth to say something dismissive – it reminds him of those silly friendship rituals that the other kids did in elementary school, slapping hands and bumping fists in rhythm for some sort of secret club handshake. The entire concept is utterly juvenile.

But somehow, the words won't come out of his mouth. Maybe it's the sight of Polnareff's encouraging smile, maybe it's the way that Polnareff called him a friend who'd done something cool without even batting an eye, or maybe he just feels bad for some of the shit he puts Polnareff through on a daily basis.

Polnareff's fist hovers forgotten in mid-air, and the smile fades from his face as he gradually lowers his hand.

Kakyoin thinks back to long-forgotten memories of elementary school playgrounds. Slapping hands, overhead fistbumps, single alternating fistbumps, and then they usually slammed their raised fists together for the finale...no one ever wanted to do a secret handshake with him, of course, but that was okay, because he'd rejected them first...

"I know something that's cooler than just bumping fists," Kakyoin says. He tries to ignore the fact that his heart feels like it's beating out of its throat. "Want to see?"

The grin returns to Polnareff's face. "Sure!"

When Kakyoin and Polnareff finally get the timing of their secret handshake right, they're both so elated that they celebrate by doing it again.

Kakyoin insists on repeating it a few more times than strictly necessary, just to feel Polnareff's skin against his.

 **4\. sketch**

Polnareff always takes a long time in the shower, and Kakyoin usually takes advantage of this brief period of freedom to do quick sketches. They're his most vivid memories from travel, the images that stick with him through the course of the day. A man walking five dogs at once, a father chasing his son through the street, a bride on the way to her wedding – but the only thing he can think of today is Polnareff's smile. Has it gotten brighter over the past few days? Is he just noticing it more because of their recent close proximity?

He tries to draw something else, but after a few abortive scribbles, he gives up and starts drawing Polnareff's stupid face just so he can save paper. Halfway through rendering an eyebrowless, pokey rectangle, feeling his heart beat faster all the while, he realises something.

He might actually like Polnareff.

Kakyoin leans back on the headboard, and tries to think objectively and rationally about Polnareff. He can't. He tries to summon his usual irritation about Polnareff's many character defects, such as his propensity to wander off to buy cherries to share with Kakyoin, or his tendency to be overconcerned about Kakyoin's nightmares, or his habit of borrowing Kakyoin's earrings and wearing them all day. However, all of these just make him like Polnareff even more, which is clearly all Polnareff's fault. What an asshole.

Just as he's staring at his sketchbook and thinking of ways to rectify the terrible situation, Polnareff emerges from the bathroom. He's in boxers, with a ratty old towel around his neck, and Kakyoin's cherry earrings are dangling from his earlobes.

"Wow," Polnareff says, snatching the sketchbook from Kakyoin. "Is that supposed to be me?"

Kakyoin braces himself for disapproval. Polnareff will disapprove of his art style, or his depiction of Polnareff, or something, and then they'll argue and call each other assholes, and then Kakyoin will get so pissed off that he'll be free of all this, and tomorrow will resume as normal.

"Man, I look great! Hey, want to finish it while I'm here? I'll pose!"

Polnareff hands the sketchbook back, bends his left knee, and extends his right leg all the way behind him, completely ignoring the fact that Kakyoin was drawing a portrait of his face, and completely forgetting about the ugly towel around his neck.

Kakyoin extends the sketch so he can capture the way that his cherry earrings gleam against the place where Polnareff's chiseled jaw meets his muscular neck – wait, no. So he can capture the way that the ragged towel suits Polnareff because it sets off Polnareff's annoying yet somehow attractive face – no. No, no, no.

"Hey, Kakyoin, I think we should buy more fruit tomorrow, when I tried to take a dump tonight I –"

"I don't need to know that." Kakyoin looks at his rough sketch, which seems to have become a detailed study, and contemplates the prospect of subtly communicating interest to someone who gladly gives daily updates about their bowel movements. He flips to a new page and begins a figure drawing, just to analyse how Polnareff manages to accomplish that bizarre pose. The boxers get in the way of observing Polnareff's thigh muscles, but Kakyoin's good at extrapolation.

"Polnareff." Kakyoin sets down his pencil. "If someone were to confess that they liked you romantically, what would you do?" Kakyoin glares at Polnareff, daring him to answer.

"Who would this person even be? I mean, if it's someone I've never met before –"

"Okay. A friend. Let's say a friend confessed to you. What would you do?"

"I don't know, that's pretty vague when you're talking about a popular guy like me..." Polnareff pauses, deep in thought, probably ready to list all the types of friends he's acquired over his travels. Kakyoin doesn't remember getting this irritated with anyone in his entire life. This is probably going to take forever if he keeps trying to be subtle, so Kakyoin decides to cut it short before the conversation gets worse.

"The friend is me. I am the friend."

"Kakyoin, I can't believe you called yourself my friend..." and Polnareff looks like he's tearing up because he's so touched, which would be quite sweet if it wasn't also typical of his completely missing the point.

"That's not the point, the point is that I like you in a romantic way –" and Kakyoin manages to stop himself before he adds a "you fucking idiot" to the sentence, and Polnareff beams at him and sweeps him up from the bed and into a bone-crushing hug, saying things in French which Kakyoin can't really understand, because they aren't phrases like "how much does this cost" or "where is the nearest bank".

"I never thought you'd feel that way about me," Polnareff finally finishes, squeezing Kakyoin tight.

"Neither did I," Kakyoin says, trying to wriggle out of Polnareff's death grip. "But it happened anyway."

A few judicious kicks to Polnareff's shins make him loosen his hold, and they both stand in front of each other, not quite sure what to do.

Polnareff grins at Kakyoin – it's obviously an attempt at a sexy smirk, which might almost work if he didn't look so happy. He extends his hands, open-palmed. "Want to shake on it? Our new romance?"

"Take this instead of a handshake," Kakyoin says, and kisses him.


End file.
